


I can't watch you dream beside a fire you made to leave

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Incest, Multi, PWP, Past Mentions of Abuse, Past Mentions of Prostitution, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, burn injury, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air conditioner on the ship overheats and Johnny's tasked with fixing it, like he isn't tired enough of fixing everything. But if he doesn't at least try to figure out what's made the thing malfunction then they're all going to perpetually suffer in the heat. Except that, in the end, they have no choice, and they're just going to have to figure out how to forget the heat some other way...</p><p>Set after the events of 1x08</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can't watch you dream beside a fire you made to leave

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS HAPPENED. 
> 
> (And I don't really know why I think I can ever write a pwp without setting it up somehow, but in the end it's just a porn fic where three people end up having sex with each other because it's hot and they're hot and they already love each other so it's going to happen one way or another. So that's why i'm leaving it tagged as 'pwp' since it's basically structured like that.)
> 
> Title taken from The Great Fire by Future Islands.

_Cold light_

_Hot night_

_Be my heater be my lover_

_And we could do it to each other_

_Yeah we could do it to each other_

_Well like a sister and a brother_

[ **Cold Light – Yeah Yeah Yeahs** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwUEs50XZeo)

 

 

John slides open the door to the engine room and grimaces, the heat discharging from the broken air conditioner only ten times worse inside the room than the rest of the ship. Barring his teeth he wades through the heat of the room, pushing his way to the source. He collapses by the diffusing machinery, pumping out hot screeches. Sweltering fumes gush from a gaping hole in the shell of the air conditioner and he’s hoping some part has just popped out of place, that all it needs is a good screw.

John places his hands on the shell and it’s a three second reaction time. One second, everything is fine, the next second the skin of his palms are boiling, ready to melt off like wax. And in the third, John recoils. He doesn’t have time to think about it. He screams his brother’s name.

D’avin comes rushing in, an ice pack around his head which immediately sags in the heat of the room. Water slips over his head and John can see it dissolving and as he’s watches the ice transform over D’avin’s shoulders he overlooks his brother unscrewing the lid to a drink bottle and pouring water over his hands. D’avin helps John up and keeps the water bottle pouring over John’s palms as he’s dragged out of the sweltering room. The pain subsides to a dull pang and he glares at his blistering hands, red and damp and swollen.

D’avin shakes his head, “told ‘ya you should have used the deep suit.”

Out in the unstifled drafts of the corridor, the heat still swells within him. Anger at his stupidity, anger at himself, at his brother. It’s evident D’avin’s trying. He’s given up on gift giving and he’s onto pretending like their normal, or in otherwise, ignoring all the shit that needs to be said. But it’s too hot and John doesn’t feel like fleshing all their shit out in the open right now so he submits to the pretence D’avin’s set on holding up.

Frowning, his mouth dry when he retorts, “can’t work the machines when my fingers are three times their normal size.”

D’avin raises an eyebrow pointedly at John’s hands, “come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

 

“You need to stay hydrated,” Lucy loudly informs them all over the intercom.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Dutch shouts from the kitchen as she fills up her drink bottle, “did you fix it Johnny?”

His brother wraps a bandage around John’s burn treated hands as he replies, “sorry to disappoint you, but not even close.”

Dutch saunters out of the kitchen clad only in her purple lingerie, holding an icy drink bottle to her forehead. John flickers his gaze away from his companion and focuses on the way his brother meticulously wraps the bandages around his palms, a slight shiver running up his spine. John used to be the one to patch D’avin up when they were kids. D’avin being the one who took the brunt of the force from their Dad, took it double because D’avin would never let their Dad touch John.

 

Dutch swings her hair back over her shoulder and takes a swig of water before asking, “any _good_ news?”

“None, Dutch. The air con’s wrecked but I can’t get in to see what’s wrong until it’s cooled down. And that might take a few hours.”

“Great! Lucy, how far away are we from Westerly?” Dutch questions angrily.

“Six hours,” Lucy states.

“GREAT,” Dutch barks, “plus two hours for docking, absolutely _fantastic_.”

“We’ve just got to wait it out,” D’avin shrugs, his eyes trained on his work.

Dutch throws up her arms to aggressively tie her hair up, and flicking her pony tail over her shoulder she announces, “I’m having a _bath_.”

 

It’s the best idea any of them have had because they couldn’t very well sit around drinking all the water they’ve got until they drown themselves when they could be submerging themselves in cool water. And it’s about time John put his bath to use anyway, he’d always been one for a shower, and the dual bath and shower installation in his room had always provided him with the quicker, easier choice. Only the water isn’t exactly cold, since the malfunction in the air systems of the ship seems to be affecting the boilers too.

So the water’s just below room temperature, it’s still better than nothing. John holds his hands out of the bath, the fabric of his bandages hot and itchy and the few droplets he accidentally splashed on his hands as he was filling the bath were a bliss release he wasn’t expecting, so it takes a lot for him to not submerge his hands in the bath water. But the juxtaposition of cool water over his body and the heat ensconced around his palms gets him to seriously contemplate it. It would mean D’avin having to redress him, it would mean he could watch his brother focus on him, his eyes trained on John like he did back when they were young, before D’avin thought he’d use his keen eyes for war in the field rather than war in their rooms. After many years John had convinced himself it was for the best. After all, what were they gonna do, continue to mess around under their parents’ roof until their Dad beat them to death? It wouldn’t have mattered if their Dad found out or not, they knew it was going to happen sooner or later.

That one month when their Dad disappeared, they’d thought he was gone for good. Mom was cautious, as always, as forever, but as days turned into weeks she was rejoicing, not so much in the same manner as her sons. D’avin proudly claimed the month as his favourite, days spent glued to his brother’s side, nights spent in rigorous passion, filthy sheets, sweaty and salty. And in that month they’d felt like time was endless, like love boundless, their love for each other, for their bodies, for the touch of their skin, the feel of their lips, the taste of their cum. But their father’s absence was only a precursor for what was to come, and when he did return he was worse than ever. Full of fury, expectations disappointed when finding his family the complete opposite of suffering distraught in his absence. His son’s goofy smiles and the soft tenderness of his wife, he flew into a white rage which escalated in strength and devastation on every passing day.

They were both dying to get out of there and D’avin just happened to be the one to get the first winning ticket. And of course that meant he’d be shipped off to some other planet for training, and of course that meant D’avin would lose all contact with him. People would tell John that’s just how things went. Brothers grow up, grow apart, got lives separate from each other. But to lose contact completely? For _nine_ years! That’s not what normal people do, then again, they were far from normal brothers. And that’s what got to him the most, that D’avin had fled from him. Abandoned him with their shitty father on their shitty planet, debts tearing away at their clothes, literally for John. The only way to keep himself sane, keep it all together, was to convince himself with a short sentence, a few little words that kept him going; _it was for the best_.

“Maybe we could open the door and let all the hot air escape,” D’avin suggests over the intercom, breaking John out of his thoughts.

“Do you _want_ us all to die?” Dutch questions.

“I’m going to die of a heatstroke if we don’t do something about it,” D’avin says.

“You need to stay hydrated-” Lucy begins.

“We _know_ ,” Dutch groans.

“-but I advise you to hold back on your water usage or you will not survive the journey to Westerly,” Lucy finishes.

“What do you mean, we’re all having baths, _right_?” Dutch questions the rest of her team.

D’avin unleashes a frustrated noise, the sound of running water stops and he announces, “I hate baths!”

“Who hates baths?” Dutch asks, appalled, “hey what was that?”

John hears the beep echo over the comms and a shiver flickers over John’s spine. He immediately jumps out of the bath, the air so warm that his feet are practically dry after two steps. He snatches his pants and bolts out his door to the hallway. The door to his room clips his shin and he pants in the hallway as the door clicks firmly shut behind him. It’s only a matter of minutes before Dutch can override the system, and in that time he needs to find his brother before Dutch gets to him first. He never did get to find out how Dutch answered to her last question about trusting D’avin but this situation isn’t going to help his case.

John quickly tugs on his pants and he dashes down the halls to the cargo bay and spots D’avin in the cock pit, the emergency doors shut separating D’avin from the rest of the ship. John positions himself in the way of the cargo bay door and waves his hands in the air in a surrendering motion until he catches D’avin’s eyes. He holds the stare, vicious and firm and he mouths “no,” to his brother.

D’avin breaks the stare and gestures for John to get out, but John shakes his head, not budging. They fall to a standstill, D’avin with his fingers hovering over the controls and John standing firmly on top of the door. Then D’avin does what John should only have expected him to do. He releases the emergency divider and makes to walk away down the hall, running away like he did years back, deserting him. Just forget about it, _it’s for the best_. And John’s fully expecting to see his brother’s back march away from him, but instead, D’avin comes toward him. A stern look streaks his face, his eyes ready to kill and for a brief moment John’s afraid the switch has been pulled.

Sweat beads on John’s forehead as he takes a few steps back, his bare feet scuffing on the plastic floor. D’avin walks right up to him and stops when John stops. Only inches away from each other, D’avin stares into John’s eyes, a scowl in his face and John swallows hard, feels the heat between them escalating hotter than the warmth around them. His eyes dart to D’avin’s shoulders, to the way they rise and fall with his ragged breathing, the way sweat drips over his pectorals, slide across his gently sloped waist, down his abdomen. John’s heart hammers in his throat and he’s wondered why it’s taken his brother so god damned long.

But D’avin doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t say anything either and it’s the standstill from before only all physical barriers removed, just their mentalities blockading them. John drags his eyes back up to D’avin’s and tries to stay as firm as he was before but it’s hard, it’s so hard with his brother allowing himself to be so close to him, and the heat, and seeing D’avin’s lips wet and parted. He tries to think of other things, that D’avin’s aged so much. John’s missed out on it, missed seeing his brother’s face every day, missed out on D’avin’s skin growing tighter, harder. On his muscle tone developing. In the dark about the stories behind new scars. And the memories. That’s one thing John can’t fix because his brother prevented him to. But since coming back in his life, since John found that level four warrant on his brother’s head… for all he knew D’avin had cut him off from his life, but even then, he wasn’t going to let his brother be imprisoned by the RAC, or killed by some senseless killjoy. That in itself should have given D’avin hope about a salvageable relationship, but then there was the lost memories, and John had been so curious to know how deep the loss ran. How much had he forgotten? There’s no easy way to go around asking his brother, _hey, do you happen to remember screwing around back when, because yeah, that happened, and yeah you fucked me over by leaving_. So that second half he’d already said but D’avin didn’t even know the half of it and he’d decided he’d let D’avin come to him for the first part.

D’avin squints and he finally breaks the overwhelming silence, “why’d you come for me?”

For a moment there he thought he was going to get something out of D’avin, but then, he forgets that they’re not so much on the same wavelength as they were almost a decade ago. So he sighs, and casting his eyes to the floor he says, “you were never the smart one D’avin, your idea to let the galaxy suck out the heat for us? Yeah that’s only gonna kill us.”

“No I meant,” D’avin begins, tugging at John’s chin to face him, “why’d you lift my warrant?”

John stares at D’avin, feels his brother search his face, his finger hooked under his chin and it’s D’avin’s touch that makes him lose all resolve. D’avin looks for his answer and he should see it in the crinkle in John’s brow, in the quirk of his lip like he’s telling D’avin, _do you really have to ask?_

D’avin’s face softens and he says, “you just don’t want me to open the door because you’re scared of space rats.”

John closes his eyes, relief washing over him and he feels D’avin’s finger trail from his chin down his neck to his collarbone and he can’t bear to open his eyes, can’t bear to think _this isn’t real_. He’ll entertain the possibility that he hasn’t just fainted from heatstroke because lord knows he’s dreamt about D’avin touching him like this again. But when he feels D’avin’s fingers being replaced by his lips, he has to look, has to check. He opens his eyes and he sees the brown fuzz of D’avin’s short hair, _and yeah, this is real. Now don’t mess this up._

It’s still so fucking hot and John feels like his sweated enough to fill a bath again and D’avin hasn’t said the words yet but he’s trying, _alright, he’s trying_. And even if this is some kind of heat wave dream John’s not about to stop it, he’s going to let it play through, see where it leads. Remember, he’s the one who’s done with gluing everybody back together again, and he’s not going to oppose his brother’s methods of attempting to emulate that. So John places his hand on D’avin’s neck, tentatively, a pang in his palms goes hand in hand with a throb in his stomach, the blade of D’avin’s knife as sharp as the cut to his heart. But he needs to move on, he refuses to dwell on broken shit, it’s not his job anymore.

He caresses the outline of D’avin’s hair, gently combing his fingers through the short hair. His palms throb numbly, a dull reminder of the burn earlier that day but he quickly forgets it as his brother kisses down his chest, to his left nipple and after all this time, his brother still knows his weak spot. John puffs out a breath of air as he sags backwards, stumbling with D’avin until he hits the wall. D’avin laughs and it’s like an echo from the past, like maybe they can be happy again like they once were in their happiest of times.

Pressed up against the wall, D’avin is ravenous, kissing and biting and licking John, making up for time passed and John lets him, takes in the feel of his brother’s lips on his skin, of his brother’s hands soaking energy out of him, pressed over his shoulders, his arms, his waist. John pulls D’avin up and they kiss and he tastes like sea salt and sandalwood and maybe he doesn’t actually, maybe John’s just smelling the memories seeping through D’avin, of nights in their wooden home, musky and creaky beds and a cold white light over their hot bodies.

John sinks to the floor, his legs given way and D’avin kneels between him, his boner evident in his loose shorts and John runs his hands down his own thighs, gearing up, his head resting on the rumbling steel behind him, space singing behind the walls. D’avin tears his lips away from John’s and favours his nipple, teething it sharply, a scrape of tongue, a humming grin and he’s never before questioned his fashion choices more than he is right now with his dick straining in too tight jeans. He feels grossly needy in doing it but he grabs D’avin’s hand and clumsily pushes it against his straining dick, hissing with the touch because _fuck, it’s painful_.

D’avin smirks and he moves his hands to unzip John’s pants but stops at John’s shaking head.

“You’re gonna –“ John begins, swallowing hard, “– have to tear it.”

D’avin’s smirk intensifies and he hooks his fingers beneath John’s pants, “I tried to tell you to wear something lighter.”

“You always _think_ you know best,” John drawls and it sounds too much like a jab but he doesn’t correct it. It brings him a different kind of pleasure to see the flicker of guilt over D’avin’s face. Confirmations to him of what might have been lost.

D’avin tries to tug off John’s pants but he’s right, it needs to be torn. So D’avin grips the fabric of John’s pants and rips what he can, peeling the sweaty things off John’s legs and he sighs at the relief, his dick no longer trapped in a tight sticky wrapper. Through the steamy haze of his vision John finds D’avin’s shoulders, pulls his brother up close and kisses him but D’avin’s always thirsty, always seeking to kiss more than the cliché. At least some things haven’t changed. He kisses over John’s jawline, nibbles behind his ear, chews his earlobe and nips his neck, but he skips John’s chest and there’s a horrendous second of nothing, a pause where John thinks, _that’s it_. But the clock’s hand rolls over and time continues, his brother’s lips poised on the tip of his dick and John leans forward, drags his hands over D’avin’s strong back as he feels his dick ensconced in D’avin’s mouth.

His bandages stick to D’avin’s sweaty back, prickling pain flickers over his palms and he remembers he’s got to be careful, got to calm down, try not to roll his hips too hard as a sign of control. He lets out a breathy moan, noise hitched by his capacity to deliver, and he arches his back trying to breathe the most amount of air in, hot and heavy in his mouth. He falls back on the wall, folding his hands back so his knuckles graze D’avin’s shoulders. D’avin takes John’s cock in his mouth fully and he sucks and licks the precum on the head and afterwards runs his tongue underneath the grooves of the head, lines the sensitive folds of skin and it’s too good, John can’t look at his brother, can’t let him take him so soon, can’t let only three minutes pass compared to the nine years of loss.

He looks away, looks at various points in the room as D’avin tries to suck him dry and that’s when he spots her, perched by the crates near the cockpit and it’s funny that he’s only just noticing her there now. She’s slouched against the plastic crates, her hair a mess over her shoulders and her hand disappearing beneath her underpants. She’s got this look on her face, her eyes half open, glazed, a real glassy look and his leg jerks, a twitch in his dick.

D’avin lets his brother’s dick rest against the corner of his lips as he speaks, “she watching still?”

John glares at D’avin, “you knew?”

His brother just laughs and takes his dick in his mouth again, hot ventilation incomparable with the hot heat of his brother’s mouth. He feels D’avin’s hand wrap around the base of his cock, his spare fingers flicking around his balls and John finds his eyes drawn to Dutch again. He briefly watches hasty movement in her pants, a finger in her mouth and D’avin knew, _D’avin knew_. D’avin fucked her when he’d explicitly told him not to. His sister. His brother. Brief and eternal lovers, now intertwined. What a fucking mess.

Then D’avin does this thing where he holds John’s dick deep throat, a sort of guttural groan, a massage of sorts and he does this while sucking and it all seems impossible, Dutch’s hair sticking to her temples, her hips uncurled, lax with passion and that curve of her waist, the sharp turn of her wrist. John comes and it’s white hot heat, seething and searing through clenched teeth, a thunderous wave, a tsunami brewing for a decade finally unleashed.

He sags on the floor, his neck in an uncomfortable position and D’avin sits back on his heels, wipes his hand over his mouth. John watches his brother glance over at Dutch who has slouched further down the side of the crate, and when D’avin returns his gaze to him, his stomach flutters, a cool shiver breaking through the warmth of the room. D’avin leans forward and scoops his hands beneath John’s arms, helping to lift him up, stand on his feet. John’s still breathing hard, still feeling light headed and the after effects of a natural disaster still hitting his shores. He clings to his brother as D’avin moves them across the room toward Dutch.

Hoisting John’s arm around his waist, D’avin says, “you coming? I can’t carry you both.”

Dutch whips her hand out of her underpants and pouts, “why not?” but she pushes off the crates, an electrified energy flowing through her. She stalks down the halls towards her room, stomping through the swamp of heat and somehow it’s better moving around, sifting through it all, breaking apart the stuck, stuffy sections as they move. His afterglow becomes infused with the blaring lights of the hallway, shining bright over Dutch’s slick skin. The anticipation builds in his core, D’avin’s arm wrapped firmly around his waist, a hand splayed on hip, keeping him in place. He should feel at home, at peace, or at least excited with anticipation. But with D’avin’s arm around him and Dutch sauntering in front of him he only feels confusion overcome him. And with reinvigoration comes anger, a mouthful of courage.

“Nine years D’avin,” John begins, “and you never wrote _once_.”

D’avin stops in his tracks, tensing, muscles taut around John’s waist and John slips out of touch, holds contact with stern eyes, ignoring his nudity.

“I did,” D’avin begins to protest.

In the corner of John’s vision he sees Dutch disappear ahead and he interrupts his brother, “you left me to pick up the pieces after you fucked off and from that day I learnt how to fix problems. I _had_ to. Without you D’avin, I…”

John trails off and D’avin uses the pause to speak, “ _John_ , I _did_ write. Every week-“

John laughs mockingly over him and says, “I never got anything. I sent you mail, don’t know if you got it so don’t know if you knew that Dad left not long after you. He left Mom in no shape to work, it was up to me, it was up to me! I don’t even want to tell you… the kinds of things I had to do to keep us afloat. I swore after Dutch took me in as her apprentice I’d never let another man touch me again,” John scoffs at himself, “but here you are again.”

“Wasn’t my army pay enough?!” D’avin exclaims.

“What pay? We never got _anything_ from you. You went off and you might as well have been sucked into a black hole,” John gives D’avin a once over and glares as he spits, “and you know what? I’m done pretending I’m happy you’re back because I’ve been waiting for some kind of explanation and I haven’t fucking got it yet.”

D’avin lifts his hands over his head, his elbows together and he turns, “I _wrote_ , John, I’m telling you. I wrote every day but it took me a few months that they weren’t just censoring the shit out of my emails, they weren’t even allowing them to be sent at all. They’d cut me off completely and there wasn’t anything I could do about it until I got out. I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear.”

“Then why the fuck did you join the army D’av? I didn’t even _know_. You never talked about wanting to,” John’s voice cracks, “and then you were gone.”

D’avin rubs his eyes with his knuckles and he says, “I joined for the money.”

“No,” John replies simply, angrily.

D’avin stresses, “partly! I knew about Dad’s debts.”

John just shakes his head and makes to walk away, but D’avin grabs him by the arm, “wait, I was… I never told you, I mean I wrote to you but I never had the chance back then… it all happened so fast… Dad knew… about us. He found out, right near the end. He gave me no choice but to join the army. And I thought about it, we didn’t have the means… to live elsewhere. Every single person in town was owed by Dad. The only way I could see it working out was if I paid it off because Dad wasn’t about to. And I thought, I _thought_ if I could pay back enough people, earn us enough money, I could come back for you.”

“I never had the _joy_ of seeing a single fucking pay check,” John growls.

“I, uh,” D’avin stammers, his hand dropping to John’s, “I had no idea. I had no idea what was going on back home. I never heard anything and until I found out you _couldn’t_ hear from me, I could only wait until I had my opportunity to leave. Then I got that fucking warrant and I thought I was dead… until you got me off the hook.”

John stands idly in the hallway, his hand in D’avin’s and he’s not going to facilitate anymore, he’s going to make D’avin do all the work.

“John, I missed you so much,” tears well in D’avin’s eyes and he squeezes John’s hand, all that John’s allowing him to touch, “one year, two years, five, _nine_? I thought I’d never see you again, I was… afraid… you’d changed, or you were … dead. Or that if you were alive… _this_ could never happen again.”

Clenching his jaw, John steps close to D’avin and _he’s trying, he’s trying_ , and it needs to be heard so he tells him, “all you ever had to do was try.”

D’avin grins and he hoists John on his hips, John gasping in surprise. D’avin immediately freezes, sending a questioning look to John but he replies with a smile. With permission, D’avin kisses him and John can feel the grin, hear the laugh in D’avin’s throat before it rolls through his mouth. D’avin squeezes John’s ass as they kiss, noses bumping against each other, cheeks already hot and lips wet and when D’avin decides they’re on the move again John looks over his shoulder, sees Dutch leaning in her doorway, grinning.

“You boys good now?” Dutch asks, twirling a portion of her hair in her fingers, “I’m getting pretty lonely over here.”

John slips off his brother, friction building between them as his dick slides down D’avin’s chest and he puts that thought to the side so he can ask Dutch, “are _you_ good?”

Dutch cocks her head and tuts, “ _Johnny_ , I am. As well as we both are from having our trust betrayed but we’re repairing, right? Now,” she says, meeting D’avin’s eyes then back to John’s, “it’s _too_ hot and I’m _eager_ to get my rocks off. Aren’t you?”

She coaxes the brothers into her room, D’avin’s hands finding their way back to John’s waist as they trail into her room. Dutch’s bed isn’t any bigger than his and it’s going to be pretty difficult getting all three of them on that bed. Dutch clambers onto her bed on all fours, rearing up to beckon John to her. He puts one knee on the mattress, then another, feels D’avin’s hands peel off.

In the corner of his eye he watched D’avin disappear into the bathroom but he doesn’t get much time to contemplate that much when Dutch curls her arms around his neck and kisses him. And yeah, _this is actually happening_. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Dutch is like a sister to him, D’avin _is_ his brother, he guesses it all works out in the end. Dutch kisses feverishly, her plump lips dominate his and she smells alien, not in a gross way but in a foreign, distant planet kind of way. From planets where they crystalize a way of being. Metallic fierceness with a layer of mint, that sharp tingly freshness somehow transformed into a scent, and a hint of naturals, of sugar and spice and everything nice.

Dutch coaxes John further onto the bed, drapes him down on the mattress and she perches over him, teasing his dick across her damp underpants. His eyes flutter and he fights to stay focused as Dutch’s long fingers rake over his dick, her back arching, her abdomen tensing, belly button taut. He runs his knuckles over her sides, the curve in her waist, over her hips, down her thighs. She bites her lip and he doesn’t miss it amongst her dry grinding.

D’avin returns with a bundle in his hands and first he kisses Dutch. She flinches when he cups her neck, and he apologises, it’s not for her. He sits on the mattress beside John and traces his ice cold hand across John’s right arm. John shivers at the touch, raking right through to his toes and when D’avin finds his hands, he places ice wrapped in a cloth in his hands, pressing John’s bandaged hands firmly around the package.

“Hold on,” D’avin instructs him.

John nods and cranes his neck for a kiss. D’avin obliges, briefly, then clambers on top of John’s chest, two humans steaming above him. D’avin presses his lips against Dutch’s and there’s a flicker of jealousy, a jab of possessiveness spikes in his fingertips. It’s stupid because he knows D’avin will always be his, but the competition still gets to him. He scoots down on the mattress, sweaty skin sticking to the sheets and he grabs a pillow with one hand, props it beneath his shoulders. He keeps one hand on the ice, his palms burning beneath the scratchy fabric and with his spare he runs his fingers over D’avin’s butt cheek until he finds the hole. With two fingers he spreads D’avin’s cheeks apart and licks the outer circle.

D’avin grunts and breaks from Dutch to give John a breathy gasp of encouragement. He returns to Dutch and John goes in sections, licking a circle within a circle, the age markers of a tree trunk. With each lick he feels D’avin’s muscles clench, loosen, feels his brother’s body quivering to stay in control, stay in place. He leaves the bundle of cold in the crook of his belly and he seeks Dutch, finds her thigh and traces a cold stroke up to the lining of her underpants. He flicks a finger beneath, curving around her thigh and tickles the pubic hair before finding her clit. He pushes his hand underneath her underpants, coaxing her legs to spread and he rubs her clit generously.

Dutch clenches her legs over John’s hands before releasing, “ _Johnny_ , your hands are cold!”

She chuckles and goes back to kissing D’avin, and John works on slipping one finger into her vagina, trying to work out some semblance of a rhythm between his finger fucking and ass licking, like that’s ever a thing he’d guess he’d ever be doing. He trails his tongue deeper into D’avin, slips his tongue along the walls of his brother’s asshole and at the same time curls two fingers into Dutch, curving back, driving in again. The two bodies above him moan together and John can feel Dutch clenching around his fingers, coaxing him to dig deeper.

Except John’s hand starts to cramp and he unhooks his hand from Dutch’s underpants, eliciting a breathy complaint. He keeps his tongue inside his brother and covers his Dutch lathered hand over his bundle of ice, applying pressure against his throbbing hand.

At this point, Dutch clambers off John and growls, “now let’s be safe boys.”

John hears rustling in drawers and he lathers his tongue around D’avin’s walls, spreading his brother’s ass cheeks apart with both hands now, one cold and one hot, polar opposites. D’avin falls to his hands and knees, granting John better access and he ploughs his tongue in as deep as he can get, his brother mewling about his legs. The bundle of ice slips off his belly and slides to his groin, a cube of ice slipping out and daring to touch his swollen dick. John howls in surprise into D’avin’s hole and sits up, drawing his tongue back in his mouth.

Licking his lips, he watches his brother flip his position. D’avin picks up the cube of ice melting beside John’s cock and slides it across his thigh. The cube quickly melts and by the time D’avin gets to his groin it’s already melted away completely. Water shimmers in the trail over D’avin’s thigh and it glistens, a pearlescent shine compared to the sweat streaks shaped like hands across his skin. Dutch leans over the side of the bed, takes D’avin’s lips in hers and kisses him away from John, lets D’avin’s hands caress her breasts, graze his fingers over her perky nipples.

Then she pulls away, drops by the side of the bed beside John and traces his collarbone with her fingernails, trails up his neck, his chin, the curve of his lips. She presses a small tablet against John’s lips and he keeps his mouth firmly shut, frowning in confusion.

“It’s just a breath mint Johnny,” she informs him, “I want to kiss you too.”

He relaxes and lets his companion drop the mint in his mouth. He sucks on it, feels the freshness spark into action. Moments later, he feels Dutch’s lips on his again, her hand creeping around the bundle of ice to his dick. She pumps him and John’s actually glad he came earlier, means he’s going to last longer this time around. He feels slick latex touch the tip of his dick and Dutch’s hands retract to somewhere off the bed, her lips parting with her. John sits up, arching his back and he kisses D’avin as his brother rolls a condom over his dick. The wrapper is flung off to the side, fluttering in the air and another is opened. John helps D’avin roll the condom over his own cock, his brother moving to kiss his collarbone, his chest, his nipples. John cranes his neck, bending into D’avin’s touch and the ceiling is a swirling void of white, draining away like the pulling suction in a bath.

John sifts his fingers through D’avin’s hair, tickling his neckline, behind his ears. He perks up when he hears leather strapping from beside him, Dutch working on something and he stares at her when she stands up straight. Completely naked, except, _of course_ she’s wearing a strap on.

John’s eyes go wide taking in the sight and he clings to D’avin’s shoulders, drawling, “it’s _so_ big.”

“And _purple_ ,” D’avin comments.

“It’s her favourite colour,” John informs his brother as he lies back again.

Dutch smirks and she climbs on the bed with a bottle of lube in her hand, lathering it on the dildo. John stretches his arm across to the bedside table and gulps down water, eyeing Dutch pausing beside D’avin. One hand on his hip, she creeps over John’s lap, positioning herself facing John. He puts the water bottle aside and watches her eyes flutter, her lips curve as she grinds her ass against D’avin’s cock, her fingers working on herself. With a gentle nudge, she encourages D’avin’s legs to spread as she shuffles back with him, and with her hands on John’s thighs, she pulls John’s legs out from under them, hitching them on her hips.

She distracts D’avin by craning her neck to kiss him, letting his hands trail underneath her arms, caressing her breasts. She parts briefly to grab a pillow and shoves it beneath John’s lower back, propping him up, and quickly returns to kissing D’avin, his brother’s lips red with determination. John throws his head back on the mattress when he feels Dutch lather the cool gel around the outer circle of his asshole and he seizes Dutch’s thighs despite the direct heat against his palms, but in doing so he’s pulling her closer, guiding her as she slips a finger in. John lets out a moan as Dutch lathers the gel further down his entrance and he has to bite his lip, preparing himself for what’s to come.

He glances up at D’avin, groping Dutch’s breasts as he kisses her shoulders, the nape of her neck, moves her thick hair aside to kiss hidden areas. John’s stomach flutters when he feels Dutch’s slick dildo slip across his ass cheeks, her fingers deep inside him and he squeezes his knees against Dutch, his feet dangling by D’avin’s bent knees. The heels of his feet graze the back of D’avin’s knees and he quickly glances up at his brother, watching for the ticklish spark to dart across D’avin’s brow. Letting out a gasp, D’avin parts from Dutch, scowling at John as he tries to shift away from John’s playful feet. But D’avin becomes aware of Dutch’s exploration of John and he firmly grabs her shoulder, pulling her away.

“He’s mine,” D’avin practically growls.

John’s heart skips a beat and Dutch replies, “woah there wolfy, a bit possessive?”

D’avin closes his eyes briefly before moving beside Dutch, a hand on John’s knee and he says, “yeah, I am, with good reason. You wanna make use of that thing?” D’avin nods towards Dutch’s dildo, “you fuck me and I’ll fuck him, everyone good with that?”

“Aye, aye, solider,” Dutch agrees, moving behind D’avin.

John cries, “just hurry up already,” and the others laugh.

D’avin hoists his brother’s legs over his hips, and strategically positions his dick propped against John’s hole. He then leans forward and kisses John, John’s legs pressed back, D’avin’s dick probing John’s entrance. John feels D’avin’s breath on his cheeks when they part, watches D’avin’s thick lashes flutter as Dutch starts her enterprises on D’avin’s ass. John feels D’avin press their foreheads against each other’s, hot breath on his face, D’avin’s hands on John’s chest.

Dutch doesn’t waste any time. John he can tell the exact moment Dutch pushes into him, it begins with a grunt from Dutch and from there everything clicks into place. Dutch carefully pushing into D’avin, causing D’avin’s hips to break their lock and he pushes into John, a tessellation of throbbing muscles. John throws his head back, clawing at the bed sheets until he’s wound it into a firm knot in both hands and he can positively feel the tension in his skin, taut around his scarring.

Except that he doesn’t care. How can he care when his brother’s back doing what they do best, and with some help too. He arches his back, his dick twitching in the steamy air as Dutch determines the speed, slow and precise ploughing, through D’avin, through to John. His mouth is dry but his skin is layered with sweat, D’avin struggling to secure a hold on his brother but that just means D’avin’s hands are constantly on him, consistently magnetised. John listens to the way D’avin grunts and growls and yeah, he’s totally not used to threesomes so it takes him a bit to recognise the howl of receiving versus the moan of giving. But his eyes are fixed on D’avin’s face, scanning him for the differences, for the capture and the release and his face screws up like he’s in pain every time, quickly broken by the quirk of a smile, of a grin when he drives his dick into John.

“You good Johnny?” Dutch calls out from behind D’avin.

John glances over D’avin’s shoulder and sees Dutch peering around him to, their eyes meet and he nods in response. She then winks at him and things start to escalate from there. A speed builds up between them, moving away from their previous rocking, and forming into a steady swing, building faster and faster and John reels, feeling D’avin’s cock swollen and thick inside him and how could he ever think D’avin had forgotten? After all these years D’avin still gets him, still hits him in that sweet spot like it’s no trouble at all.

D’avin makes this sort of guttural moan which turns into howls as Dutch gets him too, her grunting swallowed up by his volume and John feels like he’s on fire. Not just his hands, his whole body, like he could combust as he views his brother fucking and being fucked and then it happens. D’avin’s eyes flutter shut and he crushes the sound in his throat, curling his back as he clenches around John, his dick twitching inside him and John moans with him, his dick still hard and he returns D’avin’s pawing as his brother comes. D’avin pants and falls out of John, slipping to his side in a heap of sweaty bones and tired muscles.

Dutch saunters toward John and at this, D’avin lets out a mewl in protest but Dutch gently pats D’avin’s ass, “hey there, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” and she unstraps the dildo, tossing it to one side of the room. She has to nudge D’avin across a little so she can fit her knee beside John, her other easily locking John into place and she leans forward, a raspy whisper in his ear, “let me have some of you now.”

Dutch sits up again and she grabs John’s dick, guides it into her as she sits on him, and with her fingers still wrapped around the base, his cock thrust almost completely inside her, it’s _almost_ enough to send him over the edge. Except he holds on, pleads with his body to hold on just a bit longer. D’avin nuzzles John’s neck and he feels D’avin’s breath on him again, his neck throbbing and his asshole reeling still, but his dick ensconced in hot wet heat and Dutch straight backed, long neck craning like she’s praying to God. Her hair drapes around her waist and it’s that first shake of movement in her hair that signifies her direction. She lifts up, holds onto just the tip of his dick then presses down again and John wipes his hands over his face, the smell of disinfectant clogging his nostrils.

He moves his hips with her this time, coaxing her to go fast and Dutch faces him, a smirk on her face, “a bit impatient Johnny?”

John bites his lip, nodding, and as D’avin pulls at his chin for a kiss, Dutch takes him, riding on him swiftly with practiced actions. A curve in her back, a roll in her hips, he fucks her too but he’s nothing compared to what she can do. The sounds she makes seem genuine and delicious and her eyes glaze over, glassy like she as in the cargo bay and John desperately wishes he had two sets of eyes, two sets of hands so he can be on Dutch and be on D’avin all at the same time. But he settles for his hands on D’avin and his eyes on Dutch and he kind of gets the whole eight minute thing now. Dutch’s thumbs graze on the skin of John’s abdomen, toying with his pubic hair and he feels Dutch clenching around his dick and he can’t help it. He comes and lucky because it’s at the same time as Dutch, howling and sending prayers to God as she shudders over him, her hair a thick mess, scratchy on his skin.

She slips off him, falls to his side and John grins, holding his companions into his chest. And as their breathing steadies the air around them becomes lighter, cooler than before, thinner and easier to take in. The lights overhead pour over him and his friends, shining over their sticky bodies and with the change in temperature John’s guessing the air con’s starting to do its job again. But after a time of legs intertwined, breathing steadying and hearts calming, the reality sort of kicks in and he wonders what this means for them.

“This won’t change anything will it?” John questions, his voice accidentally loud.

“This changes _everything_ Johnny,” Dutch says, sitting up, one hand splayed in the middle of his chest, “but you know what? The most important thing that’s going to change is this bed,” she laughs, curling around John again, “I’m thinking King size?”

D’avin presses a kiss on John’s shoulder, “and after that, we’re re-writing history.”


End file.
